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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512770">The Disaster of Caring</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackstanifold/pseuds/jackstanifold'>jackstanifold</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of Family and Fear au [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Author is a Technoblade Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), but i also care tommy a lot, i may be a jschlatt apologist but only a little bit, its a tough life man</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:54:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackstanifold/pseuds/jackstanifold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Technoblade's view on everything from the beginning to the end, from family to healing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jschlatt &amp; Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo &amp; Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Technoblade, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of Family and Fear au [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>best smp stories</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Disaster of Caring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so, you don't need to know my other fics to understand this, but i would really really recommend it? i wouldn't worry about the family and friend fics, the family comes first series should be enough</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first time he had cried, it was from fear and confusion more than anything else. He’d just opened his eyes to darkness, cold and unforgiving, his soul practically leaching from his body as he huddled in on himself, trying to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t remember his name, and that was somehow scarier than the darkness, and so he cried, and cried, and cried, until his eyes were dry and his throat was sore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He learned some things about the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was some sort of mineshaft, first of all, or a natural tunnel of some sort, although he wasn’t sure which.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were monsters, prowling the darkness. He learned to kill them, and how to seek out their weak spots. The ones that hissed blew up, he learned to jump back, away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could eat the zombies, after he killed them, and although he thought that might be cannibalism, it was the only thing keeping him alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the darkness, there was nothing to keep him together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It reminded him of something he must’ve heard once, about people going insane on islands when there’s no one to talk to. He didn’t think he was insane, he just didn’t think the voices were supposed to be there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They weren’t what you’d expect. Nothing told him to hurt himself, or do anything brash. They were quiet, patient, at first. Over time, they got bolder, until they became a deafening roar. He couldn’t understand them, he couldn’t make out their words, but he didn’t try to either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to know what they screamed at him, when he ripped a spider’s legs off one by one, watching it bleed out onto the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was down there for a long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could’ve been weeks, or months, or years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His only indication of time passing was his hair. Once clipped short, not even reaching his eyes, now it hung around him, a curtain of matted locks, reaching his waist, or even his knees if he pulled enough to straighten the tight curls, if he brushed out the knots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no way of knowing whether it was night or day, as he had no light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bright thing came into the tunnels when he least expected it, so human in appearance, with long hair the color of the rocks that shone in the walls sometimes, a yellow so beautiful he almost didn’t believe it existed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had a sword, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So did he.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He attacked, and it didn’t hesitate to strike him down, leaving him hissing as it brought the light closer, speaking in a strange language he couldn’t understand… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Food?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that word. He knew what he was being offered, and he took it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was led out of the tunnels, into the day, with a soft hand on his shoulder and a peice of bread in his hand, and he felt safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t talk, at first. The man, Phil, and his son, Wilbur, were odd, and emotional, and he wasn’t used to it. He was told he was young, around 9 or 10, but that didn’t mean anywhere near as much to him as it did to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first time he spoke was an accident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur was chattering on and on about some silly game he’d made up, chesticuffs, and he just wanted quiet, so he asked for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur froze, huge chocolate brown eyes widening at him. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He huffed. He knew he couldn’t stop now, so he didn’t. “Stop talkin’. Th’ rules don’ even make sense. Why’re doors more powerful than axes? ‘S dumb.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was different from theirs’, they found. All their words were swirly, rounded. He couldn’t make the sounds right, couldn’t conjure the emotions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s voice was green, life and spring and happiness and laughter. Wilbur’s was gold, like sparks and hope and fire and </span>
  <em>
    <span>emotion, oh my god the emotion.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His voice was dull, and flat, and it didn’t look like anything in his mind, just dull, grey, nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They weren’t surprised he couldn’t remember his name. Neither of them knew theirs, neither of them remembered before a few months ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil called him Technoblade, after one of the pigs. It was meant to be a joke, but he didn’t complain, or argue. Names meant nothing to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices called him the Blood God.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They called Phil and Wilbur his family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never had a family, or, at least, not that he could remember. He had no idea what to do with one, and the voices weren’t much help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Protect them,” They cried. “Keep them safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he did. He went out, and he patrolled the land, and he kept an eye out, every night. It was exhausting, but it was important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were worth protecting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feeling of Phil, raking his fingers through his hair, humming as they got caught in the tangles of the white-blond mess. The sound of Wilbur, strumming his quitar, coming up with words as he went, words that didn’t always make sense. This was worth every sleepless night, every tired morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he found Tommy, and everything changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil was a warrior, and an incredible one at that. He didn’t need Techno to protect him. Wilbur wasn’t a fighter, but he was no slouch at self defense. But Tommy?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy was thin, and wild, and threw himself into danger without hesitation, and Techno knew he would do anything to protect him, anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Schlatt appeared, Tommy didn’t like him, jealous of the attention being stolen by this wild boy and his tall tales. Techno tried not to like him, really, he did, but one day, as they fed the chickens, Schlatt whispered to him that he was worried Wilbur was going to make him leave, make him go, just because Tommy said so, and as Techno looked at him, looked in his dark, shimmering eyes, he found himself unable to hate him, unable to lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur doesn’t care what Tommy says, James. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt had stared at him, trying to sense any lie, before sighing. “Ok. Thanks man. Hey, uh… Technoblade is kinda a dumb name… mind if I call you Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the mood was lightened, the tension gone as Techno groaned, massaging his forehead tiredly and Schlatt laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, The Incident happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy had shoved Schlatt, and he went in the river and he couldn’t swim and Wilbur went after him and Techno reached out and they almost made it </span>
  <em>
    <span>they almost made it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur and Schlatt both lost their first lives that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno didn’t cry, even as Tommy and Phil did- even though he didn’t know it wasn't permanent- because he hadn’t cried in years, and he wasn’t sure he even knew how.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They found them in the cabin, alive and well, and he had nothing to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reason he gave each was different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno had keen ears, he heard “I want to explore the world,” “I don’t blame you, Tommy, really,” “I don’t want to rip your family apart,” but the only one that felt real was the one whispered to him, on the front porch, as Schlatt adjusted the collar of his bright blue sweater, eyes fixed on the dirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t responded, his eyes turning to Schlatt, waiting for him to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is… you’re a family, right? But not mine. What if… what if I never get that family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a silence, and Techno thought, reached for something, anything to say. “...I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt waited another moment before nodding, standing up, picking up his bag. “Bye Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, James.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur cried that night. Techno held him to his chest, held onto him for dear life, let him feel his heartbeat and know he is not alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt visited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told stories, when he showed up. Exciting, or dull, or happy, or sad. Either way, they all gathered around him, listening carefully as he talked, even as the stories grew short, even as the endings grew dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his last visit, he and Wilbur had a fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur screamed at him, and he screamed back, and Techno huddled among the cows, staring at the ground, trying not to listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of here! I don’t need you! I never did!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno had never heard Wilbur scream before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two years passed. Schlatt didn’t reappear once, didn’t even write. They all agreed to forget him, but at night, the visions of a pale hand reaching from the water, to Techno… If he’d only tried a little harder, he could’ve saved them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left the visions with his family, and went out to travel the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, his goal was simple: distraction. Find something to do, that doesn’t require closing your eyes and thinking about rushing rivers. He found that distraction in fighting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices aided him, as he trained, surpassing his master, surpassing the best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He joined an underground fighting ring, at some point, called Bedwars, and the champion left him with a new crown and some words of advice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fight to survive. Don’t. Fight to live. Have fun. Do something with your power.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only one thing he could think of to do with his power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took it to the king.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream was known as a great warrior. Technoblade knew this. He did not expect an easy fight. That was the point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t an easy fight at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream managed to take out his eye, and in return, he tore the man’s cheeks open, mouth to ears, a gory smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was the rightful king now, he’d bested the old ruler in a duel, but he didn’t reclaim his throne, didn’t approach the shaken advisors and demand respect. He nodded to Dream, and left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had nothing else to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d beat the best, become more powerful than the most powerful man on Earth, and yet he still had nightmares of his family dying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started a farm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure why, but he built himself an ugly little shack, and planted potatoes, and he worked tirelessly on it. Every day was filled with hard labor, and exhausting work, but he never stopped, never gave up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the boy arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo, his name was. He was small, and he was gentle, and the last time Techno had talked to another human was the duel, and the voices roared to life. They wanted him to kill Tubbo, show him who was boss, terrify him into submission, and Techno refused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chewed off his finger to keep himself focused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain helped him remember who he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo helped bandage his hand, and talked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told him about his best friend Tommy, and Tommy’s older brother Wilbur, and Techno almost said he knew them, but he didn’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> he couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>because then they’d want to see him and then he’d have to remember. Not all of Tubbo’s information was old news, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur had adopted a kid. They were starting a revolution. Tommy knew how to sew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno listened, but he didn’t talk. At one point, Tubbo started calling him Boar, and he didn’t try to stop him, so that was just how it went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s stories grew darker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The revolution was failing, the war was nearly over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he disappeared, and Techno thought he knew what had happened, but then…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We won, Boar!” Tubbo beamed. “We won, and L’Manburg is free!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things seemed so good, so simple for the longest time, until Tubbo told him they were holding an election. He wasn’t a fan of government, and the idea of his brothers leading one…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a nice thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the tables turned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt was back, and he was running.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo brought Tommy and Wilbur to Techno, late one night, with pleas of shelter on his lips. He didn’t have to say anything, though, because one look at Wilbur’s wide chocolate brown eyes, one note of Tommy’s anxious chuckle, and every bit of Techno’s armor came crashing down, and he was nothing but a cloth doll, with too much love for his brothers to ignore the fact that they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he hadn’t seen them in </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and oh my god, Tommy has gotten so tall, and Wilbur got new glasses, and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost cried, as they wrapped him in their arms, as Tubbo watched with wide eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt had won, and he was terrible, and Technoblade hated him for ripping his family apart again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They got Dream to help, and their second meeting went nothing like how Techno ever would’ve expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream removed his mask, letting Techno look at his face, and Techno took off the pig skull he wore as a helmet of sorts, giving him a good look at his gaping eye socket. And then they nodded, each satisfied with the outcome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s plan was a terrible one: blow it all up, and start anew, but Techno would do anything just to stand with him again, so when he got an invitation to the festival, he went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He met people there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bad, who had so much more power than anyone else Techno had ever met, pure energy moving underneath his tattooed arms, hooded eyes practically glowing with mysterious knowledge. He listened to Techno, for once, nodded along, asked questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity, Schlatt’s little side piece, far too skinny and far too young to be so scared. He almost cried when Techno looked at him, his dark eyes shifting away. Techno tried to ignore the buzz of power that sent down his spine, and how much he enjoyed the feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fundy, Wilbur’s son, now in Schlatt’s cabinet. He challenged Techno to a fight, and lost, several times, and Techno had to wonder if he knew it was his uncle he fought, or just a warrior. He didn’t miss the way the young man’s eyes darted to Schlatt for approval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt had changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slung his arm over Techno’s shoulders, breath reeking of liquor and cigar smoke, and smiled at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Technoblade. You were always my favorite, in your little family. Did I ever tell you that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno wanted to throw up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, the speeches began, and Tubbo got up to do his, his eyes shining, his gazing drifting to Techno occasionally. He’d been so excited about this, Techno remembered, so excited to share his thoughts with the world, so excited to write his own speech.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled at the kid encouragingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Let the festival begin!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Schlatt began to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trapped Tubbo in a little box, watched his eyes fill with confusion and fear, and then he called Techno up to finish the job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices were odd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, they wanted him to just acknowledge them. Sometimes, they wanted him to stop and pick a flower. Sometimes, they just wanted violence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were so many eyes on him. The crowd, Wilbur, Tommy, Schlatt, Tubbo. The voices buzzed with bloodlust, and he raised his crossbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Tubbo. I’ll make this as painless and colorful as possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy didn’t trust him after that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made sense, Techno had to admit, but it still stung, watching the boy he’d rocked to sleep; the boy he’d sung lullabies to; the boy he’d let stick flowers and beetles in his hair- watching his baby brother- stare at him with so much distrust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno was part of the revolution now, whether he liked it or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He worked endlessly to get them gear, get them materials, and Wilbur would smile at him with those chocolate brown eyes, and he would think that maybe- just maybe- things would be alright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More people started joining. Fundy announced he was working as a spy, and knew Schlatt’s weakness. Dream left, and Technoblade almost felt bad as he watched the closest thing he’d ever had to a true comrade walk away. Quackity joined, although Techno wasn’t sure he trusted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was also Eret, whose eyes literally glowed with power, her smile cold and intimidating, and he decided to avoid them at all costs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had everything they needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The war began with a bang, and the enchanted netherite armor he’d gotten everyone proved useful almost immediately. It was a long and hard fight, and one of the best ones he’d ever had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Dream surrendered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt sat in the drug van, his body limp, his eyes dull, and Techno felt his heart break.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this… is this a birthday party?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>November 16. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today was Schlatt’s twenty third birthday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno tried not to like him, really, he did, but that day, as they surrounded the tyrant, and Schlatt screamed about loyalty and being forgotten, sobbed about how no one fucking stuck around, as Techno looked at him, looked in his dark, shimmering eyes, he found himself unable to hate him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt didn’t go out the way he’d always wanted. He wasn’t slain in battle, or assassinated by an old rival, or stabbed by his girlfriend so she could run away with her beloved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He died of a stroke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A disappointing end to a disappointing man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That should’ve been the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur called them all together, to announce their freedoms, and something changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes weren’t chocolate brown anymore. Now they were dirt, muck, the color of unwashed potato skins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He proclaimed Tommy the president, and then Tommy proclaimed Tubbo the president, and all Techno could do was watch in dull, horrified silence as history repeated itself, and his family crumbled to pieces around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realised something then, something he’d never realised before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not Technoblade to them. He was a tool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not their brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt his chest well with rage, and then he was screaming. Dream laughed, clapping him on the back, and he couldn’t see anything but red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard his voice, warning Tommy of the story of Theseus, and Tommy’s voice screaming about L’Manburg, and Tubbo’s voice begging for his life, and Phil’s voice shouting at him to stop, but above all else, he heard the voices, and they cried for blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t calm down for nearly an hour, didn’t realise what he’d done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he did, he felt no remorse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked away, and didn’t stop, not until he was far beyond anything he knew, until all he could see was snow, and then he stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He settled down. Phil came to visit, bringing gifts, and news, and hugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It occured to Techno that no one had hugged him since Wilbur and Tommy, months and months and years ago, in that potato field, when they only knew loyalty and hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur was dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil had killed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’d been his last life, so he wasn’t coming back, but somehow, Techno didn’t mourn. When Phil told him, he nodded, and shrugged. That hadn’t been Wilbur, at the end, the being that spoke of destruction, who pressed the button to destroy everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno got a horse. He tried to decide what to name it, something clever or cool, but the only thing the voices would say was the last thing he wanted to think about.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“…Mind if I call you Carl?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy got exiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno laughed at that. The prophecy was real after all, the tale of Theseus’ exile rang true in the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The butcher army came to kill him, and seeing Phil chained up pushed him to his limit. Dry sobs, and weak legs, but no tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got home, finally, only to find a shadow in his front yard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy had been wasted away into nothing by Dream, and Techno had never felt so enraged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands were still wet with Quackity’s blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo appeared the next day, and Techno realized what he’d become.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his mind, this whole time, he’d been the victim. He’d always just wanted his family, his home, but everyone saw him as a monster, a terrorist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had the best month of his life, then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Tommy spent every day wandering the corners of the world, laughing at things no one found funny. Phil would visit, and he would bring Ghostbur, and the four would sit together and talk and it was so nice and Techno had never felt so at home as when Phil clicked his tongue disapprovingly at the state of his hair, and insisted on washing it for him, his warm fingers caressing his scalp, and oh, god, Techno felt</span>
  <em>
    <span> loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a way he never had before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The festival was going to be a simple in and out job. They double check, see what’s happening, then go home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t supposed to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Techno stands in the bottom of the remains of the community house, he looks around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone is here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Tommy, I can take care of them, just get home.” He mutters, but Tommy doesn’t hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy shakes hands with Tubbo, and the last piece of resolve in Techno’s chest shatters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Dream go home, to a worried Phil, and an empty house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignores the silence that greets him as he prepares for war again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still doesn’t cry, but his hands shake as he fumbles with the armor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still doesn’t cry, but his voice cracks as he screams at Tommy about loyalty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still doesn’t cry, but as the limp body of Jack Manifold </span>
  <em>
    <span><strike>who Techno knew, this was one of Tommy and Tubbo’s friends, this was the one who told jokes and made people smile and laugh, Tubbo used to tell him about his pranks and tomfoolery, back before this whole nightmare began</strike> </span>
  </em>
  <span>lays before him, he felt a lump in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil took a bit longer, saying he had something he needed to pick up. Techno didn’t mind, he needed time to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil came back with Ranboo, and Techno couldn’t not think of Tubbo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He avoided the boy at all costs, at first, until one day, the teen caught him by surprise while he was feeding Carl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got you a gift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno stared, and when Ranboo asked if he liked it, he almost didn’t trust himself to speak. “Yeah, yeah, it’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Technoblade was so goddamn tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so tired, and he was confused, and he was scared, and that night, when everyone else was asleep, he cried for the first time in 13 years, and when Phil came in to find him curled up in his quilt, tear stains on his pillow, fast asleep, he left, a soft smile on his face and a sigh on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, in order to heal, maybe you need to break a bit first.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ok i swear im working on the other fic, i just. kinda really like this au?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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